


Straight-Faced

by DyingSucculents



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: CLONE WARS SEASON 7 HELL YEAH, Clones, Fluff, Friendship, OK YOU KNOW WHATS UP, Sort Of, T H A T ONE, WE ALL KNOW WHAT PICTURE WE'RE TALKING ABOUT HERE, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18495727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DyingSucculents/pseuds/DyingSucculents
Summary: The origin of the picture.OR: Rex pulls a fast one on Fives, Cody, and Echo.ps!: Rex's picture from the Clone Wars S7 trailer ;)





	Straight-Faced

**Author's Note:**

> that,,,, picture,,,,, has no right,,,,, to make me feel so much,,,,,,  
> (this one!: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/474068034936373250/567105262415249408/Captura_de_pantalla_2019-04-14_a_las_16.png)

There was a distinct feeling of nostalgia that accompanied the ride down to Kesper IV’s surface, and the worst thing about it was that Commander Cody couldn’t figure out why.

General Kenobi always said there was something about landing in the evening — rather than in the morning, afternoon, or the pitch black of night — that made everything seem surreal. Something about the conclusiveness of the setting sun, he had remarked, the vermilion streaks in the sky. Cody remembered telling his general, rather overtly, that it really all depended on whether or not they were flying through a thick cloud of anti-aircraft flak. The time of day didn’t _necessarily_ matter when you couldn’t see the sky. The general had called him practical. Waxer had said — _with all due respect_ — that he had the poetic mind of a bantha, and that was all there was to it.

Still, Cody couldn’t help but think back on Kenobi’s words now.

Perhaps ‘conclusive’ described it, somehow; but regardless, it made no sense. On the contrary, the day had been one of new beginnings. Fives and Echo had completed their first HALOs over Kesper V early that morning — ARC stuff, as Fives had called it. Cody didn’t have the heart to tell him that the 212th dirt-grinders did HALOs throughout the Outer Rim frequently. Even then, however, it was something to be proud of. The pair had performed exceptionally well, and a thirty thousand foot drop was no small feat.

Apparently, the aftermath of the adrenaline rush wasn’t trivial, either.

Echo was, arguably, more graceful in sleep than Fives, but it was clear that both ARCs were exhausted. The trip from Kesper V to IV was only around twenty minutes long, but halfway through the ride, Rex had wordlessly paced across the cabin and pulled out the single, foldable med-cot from the larty wall. Neither Fives nor Echo had to be told twice. Of course, the cot hadn’t been designed to hold two fully armored ARCs, but they were making it work — for the time being.

“Twenty creds says that thing snaps off the wall the second we touch down.”

Cody did his best to remain indifferent, but the mental image, accompanied by Rex’s silent, expectant stare tore an incredulous chuckle from his throat before he could choke it off. “And here I was thinking that you were being merciful.”

“Really?” Rex replied, toneless, his voice low in volume so as to not wake the ARCs. Across the cabin, Fives stirred, repositioning his cheek in the curve of Echo’s right pauldron. Cody huffed a hushed laugh.

“Maybe I misread you. I thought that you’d mellowed with age.”

“Can’t an old man have some fun?”

Turning slightly, Cody cocked an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t _really—”_

 _“Kriff,_ Cody.” Rex said, words laced with laughter. He momentarily let go of the larty’s hanging handle to rub at the stubble on his chin. “I thought you knew me better. Of course I wouldn’t. I’m not Wolffe. I’ll wake them up before we hit planetside.”

“Then you have a minute. Give or take.”

“Appreciated.”

“You knew that.”

“I appreciate reminders. My memory isn’t as good as it used to be, Commander.”

Resisting the urge to knock the captain’s pauldron askew, Cody watched as Rex shifted a few inches to the left, then leaned. Previously obscured by his armored form in an admittedly gracious attempt to provide the sleeping ARCs with the small luxury of darkness, the ochre glow of the sunset seeped through the slats in the larty’s door and cast itself in vivid rays across the med-cot. Once again, Cody found himself thrust into a sea of nostalgia, adrift in an odd sensation of finality. It was overwhelming — but only for a moment.

“Hold on to your kamas, boys,” the voice of the larty’s pilot — the borrowed 441st hotshot, Starboard — filled the cabin, grainy and metallic through the gunship’s comm system. “We’re coming down.”

“Fives. Echo,” Rex said. The ARCs, already roused by the light, rose quickly, looking miraculously alert for two men fresh out of a ten minute nap. With a chuckle, the captain turned his gaze to Cody. “Got your kama, Commander?”

“You seem to be in good spirits,” Cody quipped.

“Relief. Comm me the next time you get two new ARCs through a HALO. Hell of a drug.”

“We didn’t give you too much trouble, did we, sir?,” inquired Echo, sidling up alongside Rex and grabbing the closest hanging grip. “With the exception of Fives losing half his kit middair, of course, I don’t _think_ we—”

“Ah-ah,” Fives cut in. “Not important. Nothing important lost. We don’t have to bring that up again.”

Rex shook his head, the orange glow sweeping across his face, then flickering slightly as the larty broke low cloudcover. Through the door slats, Cody could now see the rolling metropolis of Kesper IV’s main docking city, Kes’thus, bathed in the same hues of amber. The landing platform, dotted with pinpricks of turquoise light, rose rapidly beneath the gunship, the descent accompanied by the dull hum of the engines as Starboard steadied the larty and centered it over the pad.

“As long as you didn’t lose my holocam,” Rex was saying, his voice trailing off into a silence that wasn’t quite a question. Cody redirected his attention to Fives, wanting to cross his arms, but aware that the landing had the potential to shake his balance. Avoiding a _shebs-_ first tumble ranked higher on his list of priorities than making the ARC squirm for a few more seconds. Luckily for Fives, however, Rex’s brand-new holocam was still tucked safely into one of the pouches on the ARC’s utility belt, although it took a few seconds of poorly disguised frantic searching for it to be identified and retrieved.

“Right here, sir,” Fives said, and handed the ‘pad over. Rex took it just as the larty touched down. Gently. The 441st had some well-trained pilots — Cody couldn’t deny them that.

“Don’t forget to tip your driver,” Starboard’s voice crackled over the comm. “I don’t know if you boys were aware, but it’s common courtesy nowadays. Very common. Very—” There was a pause as the larty’s engines whined to a halt, and the doors slid open with a mechanical whir. “—Very courteous.”

Echo was the first to step out of the gunship, followed almost immediately by Fives. Rex lingered inside for a few moments, taking the time to carefully refold the med-cot and secure it back within the cabin wall. By the time Cody exited the gunship alongside the captain, the sun had dipped completely below the horizon, leaving the evening sky at its most vivid hue.

The same nostalgia-esque feeling stirred so obtrusively in Cody’s chest that he couldn’t help but turn to Rex — more of a gut reaction than anything else. The captain, however, was busy waving Starboard over with one gloved hand, while the other tossed the holocam idly.

“You gonna tip him?” Cody asked dryly. Rex snorted, but said nothing, catching the holocam and holding it out to Starboard as he approached. It took a substantial amount of focus on Cody’s behalf to keep a straight face at the pilot’s perturbed expression.

“What’s this?”

“You wouldn’t mind taking a quick picture for us, would you?”

This time, it was Cody’s turn to throw the captain an incredulous glance. “I didn’t think you had a shred of sentimentality in you.”

Starboard took the holocam as Rex returned Cody’s words with a knowing look of his own. Suddenly, Cody wasn’t so sure if the odd feeling in his chest was exclusive to him; maybe Rex had the right idea. Like always. There _was_ an element of longing to it that he could identify now — like he was anchored to the tranquility of the moment and didn’t necessarily want to leave. That still didn’t explain the feelings of finality, but it did help some. Although Cody wasn’t one for that kind of sentiment, the thought of a picture seemed oddly appealing at the moment.

“Any special occasion?” Starboard asked, trailing behind as Rex moved around the side of the gunship towards the cockpit nose. Fives and Echo, who had previously been waiting in silence, exchanged perplexed looks. Cody took the opportunity to extend an arm in their direction.

“First HALOs. Not a single scream out of either of them.”

“Impressive,” Starboard noted, with all the bravado of a pilot who had obviously flown more HALO missions than he could count.

“I thought so, too.” Cody made room for Rex to step in next to him. On the captain’s opposing side, Fives tucked his helmet against his hip. Echo took the cue in stride and followed suit, albeit still looking a touch out of his element.

“Do we—”

“No,” said Rex. “Try not to smile. Back straight, arms at your sides. Professional. Ready, Starboard?”

“Whenever you are, sir.” Starboard took a step backwards and raised the holocam. Almost instantaneously, Cody’s habit for procedure elbowed its way to the forefront of his mind, and he found himself checking off a list in his head: _face straight, back straight, knees apart, chest out, no smiling, although he hadn't planned on doing that in the first—_

And then Rex moved.

Cody couldn’t see it, even in his peripheral vision, but it had felt like _quite a bit of motion._ Naturally, it had been a smooth, purposeful adjustment on Rex’s behalf, but from the way Fives sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, it had been unexpected all the same. And captured. It had been _captured._ Starboard was already lowering the holocam, a wry smirk on his lips.

Cody whirled, but Rex, face blank and impassive, straightened casually before he could give away any idea of what he had been doing.

“Try not to smile. Back straight, arms at your sides,” Fives mocked, giving Rex a light nudge with his shoulder bell. _“Professional.”_

Brows furrowed in suspicion, Cody held out a hand for the holocam, turning the screen towards his face in one fluid motion the second Starboard let it go. Fives and Echo lingered over his shoulders, snickering.

There they were. All four of them, holding perfect postures before the imposing silhouette of the gunship and the brilliant orange backdrop of the Kesper IV sky. It could’ve been a poster, Cody thought; one of the better ones, even, plastered around Galactic City with the imposing _'_ _SUPPORT OUR TROOPS'_ in bold, white letters across the top. It could’ve been the cover of the newest issue of _Republic Now._ It could’ve been nose art. It could’ve been any number of those things — if it hadn’t been for Rex, with one arm slung unceremoniously around Fives’ shoulders and the other hand raised, chest-level, in a comical point directed at the impressively composed ARC.

Behind him, both ARCs were in stitches, with Fives reduced to a helpless pile of armor leaning against Echo’s shoulder. Echo wasn’t doing any better himself, managing to wheeze out a weak _“Fek,”_ and stumbling out of Cody’s way.

“Professional, my _shebs,”_ Cody snapped, turning on his heels and pressing the ‘pad into Rex’s breastplate. The captain caught it, fingers splayed across its silvery back to keep it from falling as he laughed.

As they _both_ laughed.

It could’ve been a wholly heroic picture. Striking. Monumental. But there were plenty of those out there. Besides, this one did a fine job of banishing the odd feeling from Cody’s chest. The image depicted them as friends; for once, soldiers came second. Perhaps that was part of it, then — that, above all, there was some comfort in knowing they could all look back on it someday, as friends, and not as soldiers.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Life kicked me in the back of the knees but here's something I wrote in like,,, an hour. Because I literally could not restrain myself. The grammar & pacing are probably something else in this bad boy whoops.


End file.
